Moonlight Kisses

morning after

jordyn.

My head feels like it's about to explode. Like there's cruel little people in there fighting their way out and their brilliant method of doing that is trying to literally crack my head open by pounding on it.

Sunday hangovers. A great way to start your day.

I rub my eyes, trying to rid myself of sleep. Thankfully the curtains are closed so the blinding light isn't something I have to worry about. Forcing myself to sit up in the bed, one I realize I have no recognition of. The whole room is a stranger to me.

I look down at my body from under the covers. Satin pajamas replace the long beige dress from last night. Who the hell got me dressed? I turn my head to the nightstand and my phone and a glass of water is sitting there. 11:36 a.m.. Notifications litter my lock screen, but I'm far too lazy to look through those right now, more than likely they're just likes and comments on my post from last night.

The night I can't remember no matter how hard I try.

I got ready with the girls. We took off to the dance. Beau found out I kissed Jake. We fought. Then we almost kissed for reasons I still have yet to fathom. We all took turns humiliating and being humiliated for our childhood obsessions. I danced with Beau. He took off. And...and...shit. Obviously I went to the after party, I wouldn't get as drunk as my hangover is implying at a school dance. I just can't remember what happened at the after party.

Okay, focus on what you can figure out.

It's 11 a.m.. I'm hungover. I'm in someone else's pajamas. And I have no fucking clue where I am. Swinging my feet over the edge of the massive bed, I'm glad to have met the cold flooring with socks on. The mahogany door whips cold air past me as I pull it open. Once I peek my head out, I see the familiar corridor of the Clemonte manor. That's one question answered at least.

I don't know how the hell I got here, but I guess that's not as big of a worry as not being able to remember the last 12 hours of my life.

The door clicks shut behind me. My eyes look out for any sign of human life other than myself, but it's cold and quiet and eerie. The only sounds coming from my socks rubbing against the burgundy carpet.

What if I'm dead? Is this what death feels like? Did I drink myself into oblivion?

No, this is just a depressing ass house.

This side of the house looks different from where I usually am. Since I spend most of my time in Sophie's room, I always make a right at the top of the stairs. Even on all the handful of times I've been in Beau's room, it was on the right as well. I'm guessing this is what you get when you make a left. It feels much less lively. More lonely. Like paranormal of sorts. All the more reason not to explore this house alone.

A striking pain hits my head like a cramp. I wince and lean onto the wall for support. I desperately need aspirin or something. I can't last another second with this headache.

I mentally curse my stupid self. I wasn't thinking of this when I was going to town on whatever I seemed to love chugging. It may have been fun, but I don't think it was worth this excruciating pain.

The railing of the stairs is just a few steps away. Like a zombie I drag myself over to them and look down. There's no one in sight. You'd think their chef would be here making brunch or something, but no, not a soul in sight.

Fuck this I'm going back to sleep.

Trudging back to my room, I replay last night's events in my head, trying to get past my last memory of getting to the party. Hazily, I recall Sean telling Soph he had SAT prep today, which does nothing for my current issue. After that I'm pretty sure Sophie and I started drinking together. I want to say I stayed by her side all night, but a very strong intuition tells me that that isn't the case.